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Tours de Farce: Y'all Don't Come Back Now

12:00 AM Friday 5/5/00 | |

It's just a few miles south of here, take the third exit, hang a left at the Don Rickles statue, and you're there. Just don't expect anyone to welcome you.

This is Meantown. Once upon a time it had a real name, something like Jason Lakes or Frostbite Falls, but around 1938 the town fathers decided that the name should fit the place. Hence, Meantown was born.

The citizens of Meantown don't like lawyers, they hate politicians and have no tolerance for fools. Needless to say, they probably wouldn't like you. Every resident of Meantown is belligerent, right down to their nasty little calcium-deficient bones. But don't take offense. The citizens of Meantown don't like each other, never mind strangers.

But they do tolerate the tours. No one ever plays Meantown, so a good show like Williams & Ree or Buzzcocks gives the locals a chance to go somewhere else and leave their nefarious neighbors behind. No matter if it's Pearl Jam in Los Angeles, Night Ranger in Chicago or The Beach Boys playing outside New York City, Meantown citizens look forward to traveling, the farther the better. Any reason to leave is reason enough when you live in Meantown.

A big city promoter once came to Meantown, and said he wanted to bring Roger Waters and "Grease" to the local uncivic center. The townspeople ran him out on a rail when they discovered that they would have to sit next to each other. Right after they brawled over who would get front row seats.

So if you're traveling south on the interstate and you have a hankerin' to visit Meantown, best to look straight down the highway and put the pedal to the metal. Further on down the road you'll find comfort and shows by John Wesley Harding and Insane Clown Posse. But if you do visit, keep in mind that the spiteful people that call Meantown home keep the tar and feathers handy, the shotguns by their sides and the unwelcome mats at their front doors. They're ready for you.

Just be sure you're ready for them.

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